


Midnight Whisperings

by Grr3182



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7586578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grr3182/pseuds/Grr3182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is the leader Les Amis, a famous ghost hunting group. Grantaire debunks ghost sightings for a living. Enjolras makes it his purpose to convince Grantaire ghosts are real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Whisperings

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched the new Ghostbusters remake and I fell in love with it. I really wanted to write a ghost hunters AU, and Les Mis seemed like the perfect universe to write this in. 
> 
> Please leave comments and criticism.

Three weeks after the Les Amis capture a full-bodied spectre on camera, Enjolras gets invited onto his favorite science talk show. Enjolras and Combeferre spent the two days before the show putting together a portfolio of their best evidence and scientific research. Enjolras arrived at the studio an hour before show time, folders of research under both arms, and mentally running over his list of talking points for the fourth time. There was one other person in the green room, a man with dark, curly hair reading a book about revolutionary art.

“I’ve always been fascinated by revolutionary art, the way the people use it to help sway the populace and effect change. I usually don’t care much for art, but this is . . . interesting,” Enjolras told the man, hoping to calm his nerves by talking. The man looked up, and Enjolras forgot how to breathe for a moment. He was the most gorgeous man Enjolras has ever seen. The man chuckled.

“Wow. You don’t like art, huh?”

“It never really held my interest. But I do like history, so when the two intertwine . . .”

“I’m not at all surprised that you like history. Very cliché,” the man said.

“How would you know what’s surprising about me?” Enjolras asked.

“Well because I know who you are. You’re that ghost man. The spokesperson for that ghost-hunting group. You were asked to be here specifically, so hopefully I know at least who you are.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Yeah," Enjolras said, blushing. "You’re, uh, you’re right, though. It is kinda cliché. At least that’s what everyone says,” _Oh my god, Enjolras, pull yourself together_ , he thought.

“Cliché isn’t all bad,” the man said, smirking. “Now, would you like me to show you some of my favorite pieces?” He shook the book at Enjolras. Enjolras nodded and moved across the room to sit closer.

When a crewmember came to get Enjolras almost an hour later, Enjolras was more than a little sad to go. The man proved to be more than just a gorgeous face. He was funny, sarcastic, and incredibly well versed in art history. He knew a lot more about revolutionary art than Enjolras could even hope to know.

“Thank you for, um, this,” Enjolras said, gesturing toward the man and his book.

“No problem. Always happy to teach someone about the joys of art,” the man said. Enjolras turned to follow the crew member, but stopped abruptly at the door before turning back to look at the man.

“Sorry. I, uh, never got your name,” he said.

“It’s Grantaire. But you can call me R,” Grantaire flashed another smile.

“R. Okay, nice to meet you R,” Enjolras said before finally leaving the room.

He was still smiling when the show started. Fortunately, everything was going great. Too many serious scientists discredited Enjolras and the Les Amis the second they started talking about ghosts. Enjolras had worked years to be taken seriously. For once, it seemed someone finally was. But then everything went to shit.

“Enjolras, what you have captured here is great. Your adherence to the scientific method is amazing, really. But, as you know, many scientists are still skeptical when it comes to ghosts. So we also invited a renowned supernatural debunker to give his opinion on the evidence.” The host turned towards the wings, gesturing for the guest to come out. Enjolras’ heart sank. The person who stepped out was Grantaire. “Welcome to the show Grantaire.”

“Good to be here. Pleasure to meet you Enjolras. I do have to say, you have produced some of the most reputable and credible evidence I have ever seen,” Grantaire said, sitting next to Enjolras.

“Now Grantaire, we asked you to study the evidence captured by Enjolras and his group to try and debunk it. What did you find?”

“Truthfully, this was the most interesting video I have ever tried to debunk. As you can see, there is a shadow figure with clearly defined features, but you can see through it. It moves naturally, as if it is a human walking. And, the group was fortunate enough to catch it on multiple cameras. At first glance, this seems to be the real deal. But, my job is to debunk it, so that’s what I did. Now I am going to play a video right alongside the original here. This is a video I made using only a basic movie making software. Very low-tech, easy to use, affordable for anyone. As you can see, I have recreated the exact spectre from all the different angles the Les Amis found.” Enjolras watched the videos. Grantaire was right, he had recreated the spectre. Enjolras felt his anger bubbling up. He wasn’t lying about the ghost. It had been real. He would never fake a sighting. He knew being debunked would overturn all the credibility he had worked so hard to achieve. How dare Grantaire sit there and ruin the Les Amis like that?

Grantaire continued rambling about the video he made and the other possible ways to debunk Enjolras’ video. Enjolras felt like he needed to throw up.

“Seriously?” he yelled. Grantaire stopped talking, and he and the host stared at Enjolras. “Do you really abhor the idea of ghosts this much? I have provided lots of evidence. Credible evidence. If this were any other field of science, people wouldn’t still be questioning this. But no, with the supernatural, things are different. You can possibly recreate this event, so it _has to be_ fake. We always defer to the opinion that the evidence is faked.”

“I’m sorry, but no, your evidence isn’t credible. It’s at best circumstantial. You can take all the pictures and videos that you want, but there is no way to be absolutely sure that those aren’t fakes. And no, not every other field of science would consider this solid evidence. They would consider it theoretical. What you are studying is theoretical, but you try to pass it off as proven,” Grantaire said.

“Yes, well unfortunately you don’t even treat this as theoretical. You sit there and discredit me and my group, make it seem like we’re crazy and everything we do is automatically wrong.”

“No, I don’t automatically call you wrong. I just present counter theories to yours. It’s part of being a scientist in a theoretical field.”

“Oh, come on. That’s bullshit and you know it. Why are you so fixated on being skeptical?”

“Okay. That’s all the time we have. Join us next week as we discuss new ideas in space travel. Good night,” the host cut in. Enjolras continued to glare at Grantaire. “Nice guys, that was a great discussion. Got a bit heated there at the end, but overall, good job.” The host walked away from the table. The rest of the crew began to close up the set for the night. Enjolras knew he needed to move, but his anger kept him sat next to Grantaire.

“Wow, you are really passionate, aren’t you? That was a lot of fun. It’s not often someone can stand up to my work. I respect that,” Grantaire said, smirking like he had in the green room.

“So what was it? Did you not want to tell me so it would be a surprise? Or were you laughing at me not knowing? Cause either way, it was a dick move,” Enjolras said, practically growling at Grantaire.

“What are you talking about?” Grantaire asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me who you are? Before when we were in the green room?”

Grantaire laughed. “Really? I thought you knew who I was. I’m kinda well known in the paranormal community, Enjolras. I mean, I’m on talk shows all the time. This isn’t the first time I’ve debunked Les Amis evidence. Did you really not know who I was?”

“No! Of course not. Were you not wondering why I was being so friendly toward you?” Enjolras blushed, embarrassed that he didn’t know one of the most famous debunkers. He really needed to do his research.

“Was I supposed to automatically assume you’re a mean person? I thought we were just getting along since people are usually somewhat nice to each other the first time they meet.”

“You seriously think I would be nice to you if I had known who you are? Come on, Grantaire .You make a living debunking everything I do.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t think we were automatically going to hate each other because of our jobs. I usually don’t judge people based on what they do for a living. I usually base my relationships on people’s personalities, you know, like a normal human being.” Grantaire actually sneered at him.

“Grantaire, you literally ruin my life for a living. My job is really important to me. I can’t be friends with someone who does that. How do you not understand that?” And, okay, Enjolras might be overacting, but he was furious.

“Nice to fucking meet you, Enjolras. Hope we do this again,” Grantaire spat, standing up and storming away.

 _Smooth Enjolras_ , he thought. _That couldn’t have gone better if you tried._

. . . . . .

Four months later, the Les Amis are invited to investigate the catacombs in Paris. Enjolras had been to the catacombs before, but never with the Les Amis and definitely never for their show. The investigation goes extremely well. They get a few clear EVPs, a couple of pictures, and Bahorel gets attacked by something on camera.

“Leave it to Bahorel to get into a fight with a ghost,” Courfeyrac joked. The episode received the show’s highest ratings. Bahorel’s attack became one of the biggest news stories, even becoming the number one trending topic on Twitter. Bahorel paraded himself around, declaring himself famous and telling the rest of the group he may soon outgrow them. Enjolras was just happy that people were actually taking them seriously for once. So, of course Grantaire had to ruin it.

“I mean, it’s just too convenient that no actual spectre shows up on screen. Yes, he is slammed into the wall at full force, but this is a big guy. I’m not surprised he can throw himself around like that. And, yes, the scratches are intense and seem to appear out of nowhere, but it’s incredibly easy to fake scratches. I’m just not seeing enough evidence here to prove this wasn’t staged,” Grantaire explained on TV a few days later. All of Les Amis were gathered to watch what he had to say.

“Ha, that dude. He’s too smart for his own good. He’s cool though. Right Enjolras?” Bahorel said, muting the TV.

“No, he’s not cool. He keeps discrediting us and ruining our reputation. You got attacked, Bahorel, and he’s just waiving it off like you didn’t get hurt. Like you did this to yourself as a publicity stunt,” Enjolras said, baffled.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. He knows I’ve been hurt worse. I can take it.”

“What do you . . . What? How does he know anything about you?”

“He goes to the same gym as me. We box all the time. I thought you knew this,” Bahorel explained.

“No! Why does everyone keep assuming I already know everything? How could you box with him? He literally ruins our careers for a living and you’re friends with him!” Enjolras was beginning to feel the same rage he had felt when he had debated with Grantaire.

“I’m sorry? He’s always really nice to me, so I thought I could be friends with him despite his job. I mean, I sometimes punch him in the face when we box if that makes you feel better,” Bahorel said, wincing.

“No! It doesn’t. Why would that make me feel better? Does anyone else here have a secret relationship with Grantaire that I don’t know about?”

“I went to school with him. We still talk,” Jehan said.

“We hang out in the same circles, so I get drinks with him every now and then,” Eponine said.

“Yeah, I tag along,” Cosette chimed in.

“What is wrong with you people?” Enjolras balked. “Okay, that’s enough! I don’t want to know anymore. No one is to be friends with Grantaire. He is literally the enemy. No more!” He stood up and stormed out of the room. He could hear the group muttering about him overreacting. And so what if he was? Grantaire was ruining his life. Maybe Enjolras could ruin his.

. . . . . .

The next month, Les Amis was invited to speak at a panel at a large and prestigious ghost-hunting convention. Well, as prestigious as a ghost-hunting convention can get. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were excited; Enjolras was . . . not so much.

“This is the exact type of situation we’ve been trying to avoid. We are serious investigators using science. We’re not some cheesy ghost-hunting groups doing this for fame and fortune,” Enjolras argued.

“Yes, you’re right, but think about the opportunity here Enj. We have the chance to speak to all of these people about the science behind ghosts. We can educate them and convince them to use our methods. It’s exactly what we’ve been trying to do with our show,” Combeferre said.

“Fine, fine. You’re right,” Enjolras sighed. And that’s how Les Amis ended up squished into a small auditorium with hundreds of people in cheesy ghost themed t-shirts eagerly listening to the group explain their methods. Despite Enjolras’ initial misgivings, the crowd is very attentive, asking professional questions, and actually taking interest in the technical science. Enjolras zones out a bit as Marius nervously stumbled through an explanation of something to do with electromagnetism. He only looked up again when the moderator announced a question specifically towards him. He looked in the crowd to where the mic was handed to an extremely attractive dark-haired man and . . . Oh no.

“Hiya everyone. My name is Grantaire . . .” The crowd started to boo, cutting Grantaire off before he could continue. Even from so far away, Enjolras saw that all too familiar smirk on Grantaire’s face. “Yes, that’s right. It seems like I’m the villain here. I need to be careful Enjolras, I don’t think I can actually win an argument here.”

“What do you want Grantaire? This isn’t a place for skeptics,” Enjolras deadpanned.

“Touchy, touchy. Sorry dear. So my question then. As you know, many people, especially those in the scientific community, consider most ghost hunting shows to be, for lack of a better description, fake crap put together by phonies in order to boost ratings and maybe get their 15 minutes of fame. You yourself have worked hard to distance yourself from these shows by using actually respectable scientific methods. Yet, here you are at this convention honoring those very shows. Why?” Grantaire shot Enjolras a challenging look. Despite the truth of Grantaire’s words, Enjolras felt his blood boil.

“Careful, Grantaire. You’re surrounded by the very people you just offended. We wouldn’t want to rile them up. Now, as to your question, you’re right. I have tired to distance myself from these people. I’ve been ashamed to be associated with them. But after today, I think I may have been wrong. I wrote these people off as oafs, when in fact, they really aren’t. I went about his all wrong. Instead of pushing these people away, I should have been working with them, teaching them the real scientific ways of investigation. It’s clearly obvious from the way the crowd has been today that everyone is open to working this way. Everyone wants to be more like us, be more respectable in the eyes of the public and the scientific community.

“So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re not going to shun the community anymore. We’re going to work with them, teach them. And maybe with so many people working together, we can finally overcome skeptics like you.” The crowd burst into applause. Enjolras felt an overwhelming sense of victory. Combeferre looked at Enjolras with surprise, but Enjolras ignored him, keeping his smug expression directed toward Grantaire. Despite the obvious fact that Enjolras had won this round, Grantaire’s smirk never faded. In fact, it grew even wider. For some reason, this made Enjolras even madder than when he lost an argument to Grantaire.

Grantaire raised the mic again, barely speaking louder than the cheering crowd. “Well for once Enjolras, it seems we completely agree on something.”

. . . . .

After the convention, Les Amis made a plan on how to best educate the ghost hunting community on the scientific methods. Each week, a different member would make a short video about one specific area of investigation and upload it to the Amis website for everyone to watch. Courfeyrac made the first video. Within hours of posting, the site crashed from the overwhelming number of viewers. Needless to say, the videos were a huge hit, and Les Amis was actually starting a trend towards respectable scientific investigations.

“I’m gonna do my video about the specifics behind possession. There’s some museum that contacted me about a supposedly haunted object in their collection. I’m gonna go check it out,” Enjolras told the group when it was his turn to make a video.

The object turned out to be a doll. Luckily, it was actually possessed. Enjolras got some great footage of the doll moving on its own. After he finished filming, he decided to look around at some of the art. The museum was small, but they had a great collection of paintings. Enjolras found himself distracted by a painting of the Greek god Bacchus, an attractive, curly-haired man, relaxed and with a shit-eating grin, surrounded by wine. He doesn’t know how long he stood there, but his feet started to hurt.

“Well, if it isn’t Apollo himself,” a familiar voice said from somewhere on his right. Enjolras turned to see Grantaire.

“Ugh, Grantaire. What are you doing here?” Enjolras groaned.

“I come here a lot. Big fan of art remember. But I thought you weren’t really a fan, dear Apollo,” Grantaire said.

“I was here on business and I got distracted. Why do you keep calling me Apollo?” Grantaire pointed over his shoulder to a painting of a gold-haired, pale-skinned man. The painting title was simply “Apollo.”

“You look just like him with the gold hair and the curls and all. I’m actually surprised I didn’t see it before. It’s one of my favorite paintings. And, funny enough, you act just like him. Great leader, and some would say stubborn, extremely stubborn. Just incredibly . . .”

“Okay, I get it. I’m stubborn. Thanks Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupted.

“R.”

“What?”

“R. You can call me R, remember. Grantaire sounds too formal,” Grantaire said.

“No thank you. I’ll just stick with Grantaire,” Enjolras said.

“Why?”

“Because R is a nickname and I only call friends nicknames. We’re not friends,” Enjolras explained. Grantaire actually looked hurt.

“Okay, I was just. I was trying to be nice, but I guess you really don’t want that. Sorry for wasting your time,” Grantaire mumbled.

“We can’t be friends Grantaire. Why does nobody understand that? I can’t be friends with someone who tears apart all my work and then pretends like it doesn’t bother me. How am I the only one who feels this way?”

“I’m sorry that what I do bothers you, but it’s my job. It’s what I get paid to do, and it’s what I’m good at. It’s not personal. I’m not out to get you, I just don’t believe in ghosts. But I like you as a person, Enjolras, and I was hoping you could understand that it’s not personal.”

“Well it feels personal. It’s like you’ve made it your goal to disagree with everything I say,” Enjolras was definitely on the verge on yelling. He needed to reign it in before security asked him to leave.

“It’s not, Enjolras. I wish I could agree with you, believe like you do, but I can’t. I just don’t think ghosts are real,” Grantaire said, incredibly quiet. His smirk was completely gone, and everything he said sounded completely genuine. “I really do wish you could convince me.”

“You want me to convince you? Come on a hunt with us.” The words were out of Enjolras’ mouth before he even had time to think them through. Grantaire looked surprised.

“Seriously? You really want me to go on a hunt with you?”

“Yes. I do. You tear apart all out videos, so maybe I can convince you by showing you the real thing.” Enjolras was surprised that he actually wanted Grantaire to come.

“Alright. Yeah, okay. I’ll come. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to keep an open mind,” Grantaire said, the smile returning to his face.

“Oh, um, good,” Enjolras said, dumbstruck that Grantaire had agreed. Grantaire saluted at Enjolras then started backing out of the room.

“Well, see you then Apollo. I’ll be sure to wear my best ghost hunting clothes. I’m sure I still have my Ghostbusters costume lying around somewhere,” Grantaire joked, or at least Enjolras hoped he was joking. Enjolras watched him go until he got to the door.

“Wait!” Enjolras called. Grantaire stopped. “How am I going to get in touch with you to get you details? I don’t have your number.”

Grantaire smirked. “Just tell Eponine. I meet her for drinks every week.” Grantaire waved goodbye and disappeared through the door.

“Eponine! I gave you one rule!” Enjolras grumbled. He considered admonishing Eponine to her face, but thought better. That girl scared him more than the ghosts did.

. . . . . .

Enjolras decided to invite Grantaire to the Corinthe hunt. The Corinthe was an old bar where some young revolutionaries had supposedly died during a failed revolution. There were multiple reports of apparitions. When he told the Les Amis Grantiare would be joining them, Coufeyrac looked at him in amusement.

“What?” Enjolras demanded.

“Nothing, I just thought you couldn’t stand the guy,” Courfeyrac answered.

“Yes, he is infuriating, but I thought it would be a good way to convince him of the existence of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Courfeyrac said, but the amused expression didn’t leave his face.

On the day of the investigation, Grantaire showed up at the exact time Enjolras had told him. Luckily, he wasn’t wearing a Ghostbusters costume. Unluckily, he was wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon ghost holding two beers and the caption “I’m just here for the boos.” Enjolras glared at the shirt.

“Why did you even come if you’re not going to take this seriously?” Enjolras asked.

“Oh come on Apollo, it’s funny,” Grantaire said, but Enjolras continued to glare. “Alright, geez. I thought it would lighten the mood. You guys always seem so scared.”

“Hah! Oh shit! This is hilarious! Dude, has Eponine seen this?” Bahorel said, walking up to Grantaire and laughing hysterically at his shirt. Grantaire smiled and shook his head. “Oh man, I gotta go get her. She is gonna freak.”

“Don’t encourage him, Bahorel!” Enjolras called after him as he ran to find Eponine. “Thanks. It’s already difficult enough to get him to be serious for these things, and now you’ve made it worse.”

“It doesn’t always have to be serious Apollo. What, you think you’ll scare away the ghosts with humor?” Grantaire said. Enjolras gaped at Grantaire, trying to think of a comeback. He was interrupted by Bahorel returning with Eponine.

“No fucking way. That is the best thing I have ever seen. Come on, you have to show Cosette!” Eponine said, dragging Grantaire away. Grantaire shoot Enjolras an apologetic look. Enjolras began to regret his decision.

. . . . . .

Two hours later, the Les Amis were still distracted by Grantaire. It turned out most of the group already knew Grantaire. The rest of the group fell in love with Grantaire basically right away. It’s not like Enjolras could really blame them. Grantaire is a pretty great guy and he’s fun to talk to but . . . it’s the principle of the matter. Enjolras glared at the group as he finished setting up the equipment. He had set up almost everything by himself because everyone had been too distracted by Grantaire. Enjolras had managed to rope a couple of people into setting up cameras, but they had run off back to Grantaire the second Enjolras turned his back. Combeferre looked toward where Enjolras was angrily cleaning a camera lens. He shot Enjolras an apologetic look. Enjolras scowled, putting the camera down and walking over to the group.

“A Monet? No way. You’re lying,” Joly said to Grantaire.

“No, I swear it. You can ask Eponine. The worst part was, I was drunk off a bottle of wine, so either the guy was an idiot or I’m a much more talented artist than I thought,” Grantaire chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure it was both,” Eponine said.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we only have about 30 minutes to sundown, so if we could do what we came here to do, that would be marvelous,” Enjolras said as sarcastically as possible.

“Oh, sorry Enjolras. This is my fault. I got a bit carried away with my stories,” Grantaire said. The group dispersed to make their last minute preparations. Combeferre pulled Enjolras to the side.

“Enjolras, could you maybe try to be a bit nicer. Grantaire is making an actual effort here, and you’re treating him like crap,” he whispered.

“Making an effort? All he’s done so far is prevent everyone from doing their jobs. And did you see his shirt?” “Enjolras said.

"Just try, please,” Combeferre pleaded. Combeferre never pleaded, so when he did, Enjolras knew to listen.

“Fine,” Enjolras said through clenched teeth. “But if he doesn’t start taking this seriously, I’m kicking him out.”

“Thank you. Now come on, we have a show to film.” The two men joined the rest of the group. Everyone was grabbing their cameras, and Jehan was showing Grantaire how to use all the different settings. Grantaire obviously knew how to use the camera, but was kindly amusing Jehan. Enjolras grabbed his printed layout.

“Okay everyone, listen up. The Corinthe isn’t very big. There are two floors, but the top floor is just one big room. We will only need one team up there. Joly, Bossuet, and Musicetta, are you okay with taking that floor?” The three gave their assent.

“Awesome. The first floor isn’t much more complicated. There’s the main room, the back room, and the bathroom. There is supposedly a lot of activity in both the main and back rooms, so we’ll do two teams. Couf and Ferre, you take the back room. Marius and Cosette, you take the main room. Oh wait! Jehan, go with Marius and Cosette. I want them to actually get work done.” Marius blushed.

"But you let Joly, Bossuet, and Musicetta stay together alone. Why do we have to be seperated?" Cosette yelled.

"Because I know Joly focuses too much on his job to try anything, so at least some work will get done there," Enjolras explained. Cosette grumbled, but she agreed to the team. "Okay, we also need two teams outside. Outside has major activity. So who’s left? Okay. Bahorel and Feuilly, you take down the street. Bahorel, people have been attacked down there, so watch it. And up street around the bar, we can have . . . Oh wait. I messed up. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, take the outside. It’s a much bigger area, so we need more people. Make sure to get the old sewer entrance, too. So that means upstairs . . .” Enjolras stopped. He had dug himself into a hole. The only people left for upstairs were him and Grantaire since Eponine would be in nerve center.

“Me for upstairs right?” Grantaire asked. Enjolras glanced to Combferre. Combferre looked at him expectantly.

“Um, I . . . Yeah, Grantaire upstairs, but Jehan, switch with me,” Enjolras said.

“What, you don’t want to be with me? Scared my skepticism will run the ghosts off?” Grantaire smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Combferre quietly stepped closer to Enjolras and pinched his arm.

“Ow. No, I . . . no.” Enjolras sighed. “Okay, Jehan, stay there. I’ll take the second floor with Grantaire. Now, does everyone know where they’re going?” Everyone nodded then began breaking up to get into position. Enjolras shot a look at Combeferre who just smiled at him before walking away. Enjolras found Grantaire talking to Eponine in front of nerve center.

“Hey Grantaire. Can I talk to you?” Enjolras asked.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you later love,” Grantaire said to Eponine before following Enjolras.

“Look, Grantaire, I’m sorry for making it seem like I don’t want to be partnered with you, but I just thought you wouldn’t want to be with me all night. I mean, I’ve never been particularly nice to you and we don’t really get along. I just thought you would be more comfortable with someone else. It’s not too late to switch partners if you want,” Enjolras said.

“Enjolras, it’s okay. I understand. You don’t like me, that’s fine. It’s just . . . I really don’t want to go with anyone else. This is kinda embarrassing, but I don’t think this would work with anyone else. I mean I really like everyone here, but I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who could possibly convince me ghosts are real,” Grantaire said looking uncomfortable. “So yeah, no, I don’t want to switch.”

“Okay. Then in that case, let’s go. I’m extremely determined to convince you now,” Enjolras said.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Grantaire smirked.

. . . . . .

Five hours later, Enjolras was incredibly bored. He sat at one of the tables upstairs, recording an EVP session. Grantaire lounged at another table with his eyes closed. Only two things had happened all night: first a gunshot (“Inconclusive. Could be a million different things,” Grantaire had said, not even opening his eyes), and second what sounded like someone singing (“That sounds like Marius. It’s just Marius singing downstairs,” Grantaire said, but he hadn’t gone as far as to ask Marius if he had been singing). Nothing had happened in over three hours.

“Is there anyone here?” Enjolras asked for probably the ninth time.

“Apollo, they didn’t answer the last eight times, pretty sure they won’t answer now,” Grantaire said. Enjolras groaned and dropped his head on the table. This wasn’t the first time he had an empty session, but he had really been looking forward to proving Grantaire wrong. He picked up the walkie-talkie.

“How’s everyone doing?” he asked.

“Still nothing on our end,” Cosette said.

“Same here,” Courfeyrac said.

“Thought we heard singing earlier, but there wasn’t anything when we replayed the recording,” Bossuet said.

“Yeah, I thought I saw a soldier earlier, but it was just a scared kid trying to sneak in on a dare,” Bahorel said.

“I haven’t seen anything,” Eponine said.

Enjolras sighed. “Fine. Everyone keep recording. Hopefully we’ll get something.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Grantaire asked.

“What?” Enjolras asked.

“These 'performance issues.' Does this happen a lot or is it just because I’m here? I mean, it’s okay. We all have trouble getting it up sometimes.” Grantaire winked.

“Don’t be vulgar, Grantaire. And no, it doesn’t happen a lot, but it does happen. Ghosts don’t come out every night, so sometimes you get unlucky and miss them,” Enjolras explained.

“So what do you do for the episode?” Grantaire asked.

“Depends. Most shows fabricate evidence. We don’t. Sometimes we’ll come back over multiple nights. Sometimes we tell the owners and they give us permission to drop the episode. It’s difficult, but it’s part of the job.” Grantaire stared at Enjolras.

“I’m sorry this is happening tonight. I know you really wanted to convince me,” Grantaire said. He continued to stare at Enjolras. Enjolras got a weird feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah, well you probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway,” he said to dispel the tension.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s me, the skeptic. Never believe in anything. Never gonna be worth your time,” Grantaire said, sounding hurt.

“Grantaire . . .” Enjolras started.

“No, no, I get it. I do. I’m a lost cause. You invited me here because you still had faith in my ability to believe, but you get it now. You can’t change me. No matter what you do, I’m gonna be this stubborn son of a bitch, and you’re too good for a guy like me. You know, I really thought if I cam here and showed you I was serious about giving this a chance, you would maybe consider being friends with me. But no, you’re too good for me. I get it.” In the space of about a minute, Grantaire had gone from self-deprecating to angry.

“Seriously? What did I do now? I’ve tried to be nice all night ever since Combeferre told me to. All I said is you probably wouldn’t believe it, which is the truth. You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth!” Enjolras was yelling again. How did this always end up happening with Grantaire?

“And there it is, ladies and gentlemen. Right from the mouth of the golden god himself: the truth can never be used to hurt you. You are right, as always, my dear Apollo!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s happening, but you are really loud, and I’m catching it on all the cameras. Please be a little quieter,” Eponine fussed at them over the walkie.

“It’s not like we’re getting anything anyway!” Enjolras yelled into the walkie.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to calm down or I’m gonna head upstairs and stick my foot up your ass,” Eponine threatend. Enjolras cringed.

“Sorry, Eponine. I’ll be quieter,” he whisperd.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” she snaped. Enjolras turned his back to Grantaire, trying to compose himself. Grantaire didn't say anything, just took loud, rough breaths.

“Do you want me to leave?” Grantaire finally asked.

“What? No, why . . .” Enjolras trailed off.

“Why? Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve made it extremely obvious you don’t want me here since the second I arrived. Or the fact that Combeferre had to tell you to play nice instead of you automatically knowing you should be nice to a guest. Or maybe it’s the fact that you clearly don’t want to be here with me since it’s been five hours and you’ve barely said three words to me until now. I get that we can’t sit here and chat all night because it might disturb the evidence, but we don’t have to sit in complete silence,” Grantaire said.

“Well, I’m sorry. No, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay and see a ghost so that I can finally convince you, but I know you don’t want to stay. I just don’t know how to act around you. You’re . . . frustrating,” Enjolras said.

“I’m frustrating? You’re one to talk. And no, of course I don’t want to leave. I obviously want to be here. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have come. I would have said no when you asked, or not shown up. What have I done to make it seem like I don’t want to be here?”

"Well, your shirt for starters. You aren't taking any of this seriously. You distracted my team while they should have been setting up . . ."

“Oh my god, what is with you and this fucking shirt? It’s funny Enjolras. Humor. You are allowed to find things funny sometimes. You don’t always have to be this up-tight little . . .”

“Wow Enjolras, look at that. It seems we are destined to argue in every life.” Enjolras finally turned to look at Grantaire. It had sounded like Grantaire had somehow interrupted himself? But Grantaire wasn’t looking at Enjolras. He was staring at the other side of the room, face white. Enjolras followed his gaze and saw two figures sitting in the corner. No, he saw himself and Grantaire. The two looked exactly like Grantaire and himself, but it couldn’t be possible. The two figures were clearly full-bodied apparitions, some of the clearest Enjolras had ever seen.

“It appears I may have said that aloud my love,” ghost Grantaire . . . no, too weird, the dark-haired ghost said.

“And what gave you that impression? Was it the fact that they are staring directly at us, or was it the fact that you have clearly given your future self an existential crisis?” the other ghost asked. Not Enjolras because that would be impossible. He is standing right here, alive. How could his ghost be sitting right there?

“Well, your future self is clearly not doing any better. Look at him. That’s your ‘I’m trying not to freak out right now’ face. I know that face well.” The ghost was right. Enjolras was trying not to freak out.

“Enjolras, I’m afraid to inform you that I am having a mental break. Unfortunately, I’m seeing things that are not really here, so I think I’m going to leaving,” real Grantaire said.

“No, I’m seeing it too,” Enjolras said.

“Mhm. Well, is it possible that we are having a shared moment of insanity, because there is no way I’m seeing real ghosts right now.”

“Maybe I should clear the air,” the dark-haired ghosts said. “I know this seems impossible, but it is real. We are you, well a past version of you. I am you, Grantaire, and this is really Enjolras. Unfortunately, we are in fact dead. So, we are dead versions of you, but not actually you . . . I’m afraid I’m not very good at explanations, my dear Apollo.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no. This is wrong, clearly wrong. This is . . . no. You are . . . ghosts . . .” real Grantaire started to ramble. He looked at Enjolras with wide eyes. Then he started laughing, hysterical laughter. “Oh shit. This is good. You, you are good. I don’t how you’re doing it right now, but bravo. I actually thought it was real. What is it? A projection? Where did you hide the projector?”

“Grantaire, I’m not doing this,” Enjolras said.

“What a surprise, Enj. I’m a skeptic in that life too,” ghost Grantaire said. He turned to real Grantaire and, in less than a second, he was standing right in front of Grantaire’s face. “You think I’m fake? Does this feel fake to you?” And with that, the ghost stuck his hand right into Grantaire’s chest. He kept it there for a few seconds before blinking back to the corner of the room. Real Grantaire looked like he was going to be sick. He started to fall backwards, grabbing for the chair behind him but missing entirely. He sat on the floor with a loud thump.

“Grantaire!” Enjolras called at the same time his ghost said “R!” Enjolras ran over to Grantaire, kneeling beside him.

“I apologize, Apollo, but you know how I can be. He wouldn’t have believed any other way,” ghost Grantaire said.

“True, but you almost gave him a heart attack. I would rather he not die here because then there will be two of you. I can hardly deal with the one I already have,” ghost Enjolras said.

“Okay, enough. You’re real. We get it. But how is this possible? I mean, yes, there’s reincarnation, but this is different. We look exactly the same. And you have the same names, the same nicknames! This is completely impossible!” Enjolras said.

“I don’t know how it works. What, you think because I’m a ghost I know how everything works? I thought you were the ghost expert here,” ghost Grantaire said.

“He’s right Apollo. You are the ghost expert,” real Grantaire tried to joke, but it came out choked. Grantaire still looked sick.

“Grantaire, I apologize, but you are doing an absolutely terrible job. I think it best that I take it from here,” ghost Enjolras said.

“I am absolutely not surprise. I am surprised you let me talk for this long, though. I know how much you love taking charge,” ghost Grantaire joked.

“R, please, _please_ , just shut up,” ghost Enjolras said. Ghost Grantaire tapped his nose, but he didn’t say anything else. “Good. Now, Enjolras. We appeared tonight because I have something to say to you. I want to warn you.”

“Warn him? Are you from the future? Is that what’s happening here? Are we going to die? Oh my god, I’m not ready to die,” Grantaire was panicking again. Enjolras started slowly rubbing his back to calm him.

“No, we are not from the future, I assure you. We are from the past. We died about 200 years ago. I am also confused as to how we both exist, but the fact is we do. So, we should stop questioning how, and allow me to give you advice. I can clearly see you are making the same mistake I did, so I am trying to help you.” Ghost Enjolras paused as if waiting for an interruption. He stared expectantly at Enjolras.

“Do you want me to guess what mistake I’m making?” Enjolras asked.

“No, you would never guess correctly,” ghost Enjolras chuckled. He turned to ghost Grantaire, but continued to speak to Enjolras. “You are incredibly stubborn. Not a surprise, I was exactly the same way. It is not always a bad thing, but it distracted me. It stopped me from seeing what was right in front of my face.” Ghost Enjolras smiled, lacing his fingers with ghost Grantaire’s. “I made so many mistakes in my life. I trusted the other barricades would hold out, I fell for the ruse of a policeman, I let a child fight at the barricade. I am responsible for the death of a child! But to tell you the truth, I really do not regret any of those things. I truly only regret one thing. I regret dying without telling this bastard I love him.” Ghost Enjolras leaned his forehead against ghost Grantaire’s. “It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you. Listen to what I say, Enjolras. I have too much experience here. Your job is not important. Well, okay, no, it is important, but it is not important enough that you have to push him away. I already made that mistake, so trust me on this. Now, stop being so stubborn and pull your head out of your ass. Stop fighting. Just let it go. Your job is not worst sacrificing this relationship.” Enjolras stared at his ghost, refusing to look at either Grantaire or his ghost.

“Wow Apollo. Language,” ghost Grantaire said.

“Oh shut up you ass,” ghost Enjolras said. “Now, do you understand what I said, or do I need to make you understand?”

“Nope, I got it. You are Mufasaing me. No, you don’t understand that reference. You are Hamlet’s dad’s ghosting me?” Enjolras was absolutely not freaking out. This was just a weird conversation with a ghost. In a few minutes, he and Grantaire were going to laugh at what is happening.

“Good job, Apollo. You did so much better than me. I may have made mine panic, but you actually may have broken yours,” ghost Grantaire joked.

“Enjolras, I am sorry for being so blunt (“No you’re not,” ghost Grantaire interrupted, but he shut up when ghost Enjolras glared at him), but we do not have very long here to speak with you, and this is very important. If you do not do what I told you, I will haunt you until the day you die and then berate you for eternity in the afterlife. Am I being perfectly clear?” Enjolras’ ghost threatened. Enjolras nodded. “Good. Now, we have overstayed our welcome, and I am afraid we drained all our energy. It was nice meeting you, but we have to leave.” The ghosts began to fade.

Right before they disappeared, ghost Grantaire said, “Did you see his shirt? Boos. That’s hilarious! Oh stop frowning Apollo, you know it is funny.” Enjolras and Grantaire sat in silence, staring at where the ghosts had been. Enjolras still could not look at Grantaire.

“Oh shit! The camera! Please tell me it was running!” Enjolras jumped up and ran to the stationary camera in the corner of the room. The camera was off and completely drained of battery. “Aw, crap. They drained the camera for energy. We may not have gotten any footage.”

“I have to go. I need to get out of here. I can’t . . . I can’t be here,” Grantaire said. He stood up quickly and ran from the room.

“Grantaire, wait!” Enjolras called after him. Grantaire didn’t stop. Enjolras heard him rush down the stairs. He heard Jehan say something, but Grantaire ignored him, running outside and slamming the door behind him. Enjolras came back to his senses and rushed after Grantaire.

“What happened?” Cosette asked when he got downstairs.

“Long story. Saw some ghosts, he freaked out. I’ll explain later,” Enjolras yelled over his shoulder. He flung the door open and ran outside. He could see Grantaire hunched over in one of the nearby alleys. Everyone standing outside looked at Enjolras in worry, but Enjolras waived them off. He approached Grantaire slowly.

“Grantaire? Grantaire, are you okay? R!” Grantaire stayed hunched over until Enjolras used his nickname.

“You called me R,” Grantaire whispered.

“Yeah. I, um . . .” Enjolras cleared his throat, blushing. “I’m sorry about what happened in there. What he, no I, no . . . what the ghost said. About us. And I’m also sorry that I completely ignored what he said and went straight for the camera instead of focusing on you when you were clearly panicking. I’m a terrible person.”

“It’s okay, Apollo. Don’t worry. I’m not panicking about that. It’s more about the fact that I just discovered ghosts are real. I mean, I make a living proving they’re fake, so my whole world just got turned upside down.” Grantaire laughed, but the laugh sounded panicked.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. I should have know that, but of course I had to make it about me,” Enjolras said.

“Apollo . . .”

“Why do I keep doing this? Not everything is about me. I keep ruining everything because it always has to be about me. The ghost just told me that, but I’m still doing it.”

“Apollo, please . . .”

“You keep tying to be nice to me, but it always has to be about me and my job. And I actually told everyone they couldn’t be friends with you because of me! I should have nothing to do with their relationships!”

“Enjolras! Stop! You’re having a panic attack. Breathe!” Grantaire placed a hand on Enjolras’ arm, but Enjolras pulled away.

“Oh my god, I even have to one up you on this. I can’t just let you have a panic attack! No, I have to have one of my own. My ghost was wrong, I’m not meant for you. I’m not meant for anyone. I’m toxic!”

“Enjolras, stop talking! Stop! Don’t say anything else!” Enjolras opened his mouth, but Grantaire clapped a hand over it to stop him. “Stop. Talking. You can’t breathe when you talk. You are going to pass out. Now, please, just breathe.” Enjolras stopped. Grantaire was right. He was hyperventilating. He focused on his breaths and was able to control himself.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, Grantaire’s hand still on his mouth.

“What did I just say?”

“Not to talk,” Enjolras answered. Grantaire glared at him.

“You are so bad at listening,” Grantaire said, and this time he didn’t sound panicked when he laughed. “Now let me talk and then you can say whatever you want. I know why you’re panicking. What he, you. God damnit. What the ghost said freaked you out. He thought we have the same relationship they had, but we don’t. Well, actually, I don’t know anything about their relationship, but I’m pretty sure this is different. I know you don’t like me. He didn’t. He assumed, and he was wrong. You aren’t obligated to do what he says.”

“R, move your hand please,” Enjolras said. Grantaire obliged. “I’m not freaking out because he was wrong. I’m freaking out because I just realized that he’s right.”

“Apollo, you don’t . . .”

“Grantaire, it’s my turn to talk, so you need to be quiet now. I know what I’m saying. He was right. I didn’t realize it before because I’m stubborn. You’re the enemy, so I had no choice but to hate you. But I was wrong. I don’t hate you. I think you’re amazing. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you actually make me interested in art, which is a huge achievement. Not to mention you’re the single most attractive person I’ve ever met. It’s really not fair. And then that smirk. I just want to kiss you every time you do that.” Enjolras stopped. Grantaire stared at him. Enjolras expected to start panicking over what he said, but he didn’t. He realized that everything he had said was completely true.

“Oh my god, I really do. I really want to kiss you. How did I not realize this before? It also explains why you make me so mad. It’s because I like you, and every time you attack my work, it’s like you’re attacking me. Like proof that we could never really work out. He was right. I have to forget about my job. I can’t pick it over you.” Enjolras leaned against the wall of the alley. His legs felt weak. Grantaire continued to stare. Enjolras began to worry. “R, please say something.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Enjolras. I’ve learned a lot of new things tonight, and I need time to process.” Enjolras looked away. He had barely had time to thing about what he had said, so he definitely hadn’t thought about Grantaire rejecting him. After everything that had happened that night, he didn’t think he could stand rejection.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say it. You don’t like me like that. I’ll leave before I make things any more awkward.” Enjolras turned to leave the alley, but Grantaire caught his arm. He turned Enjolras back around to face him. Enjolras was going to protest, but Grantaire stopped him by pressing his lips to Enjolras’. The kiss was quick; Grantaire pulled away before Enjolras really knew what was happening.

“I’m so sorry. That was terrible. I expected our first kiss to be so much better than that. Well, truthfully I never expected a first kiss. I thought for sure my feelings would be unrequited. I also never thought I’d say this, but I’m really glad ghosts are real.” Grantaire smirked.

“I can’t believe a ghost had to alert me to my feelings. This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.” Grantaire’s smirk grew even wider. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? You heard what I said about you smirking, and now you want me to kiss you.”

“Why Apollo, you know me so well,” Grantaire drawled. This time, Enjolras leaned in, pressing his lips to Grantaire’s. He could feel Grantaire’s smirk on his lips. Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s shirt, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. Grantaire wrapped his arms behind Enjolras’ head, burying his hands in Enjolras’ hair. Grantaire pulled away after awhile, and Enjolras whined at the sudden break of contact.

“There’s always time for that, dear. We have more important matters to discuss right now, like what you’ve done to me. You’ve completely ruined me. I’m out of a job now. You literally destroyed me, ruined my career. What am I going to do now? I can’t keep debunking ghosts cause I know they’re real. That would be way too ironic. Oh well. Maybe I could try to debunk aliens. That’s a thing now right?”

“Are you serious? You don’t believe in aliens either? Do you believe in anything?” Enjolras fussed.

“I believe in you,” Grantaire said, surprisingly genuine.

“Wow, R. That’s the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said,” Enjolras joked. The slap he received from Grantaire was completely worth it.

. . . . . .

Enjolras showed up to the next investigation wearing Grantaire’s stupid t-shirt. He wore it entirely because he wanted to shamelessly show off their relationship to the group.

“What in the world are you wearing, Enjolras?” Grantaire asked the second he saw him.

“It’s funny, R. Ghost hunting doesn’t always have to be completely serious. Now, get back to work. We have a show to film.”


End file.
